


Touch Has a Memory

by flammablehat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Control Issues, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Hands, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Team Gluttony, Touching, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manservant or not, Arthur doesn't believe Merlin has any reason to touch him as much as he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch Has a Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for one of the rounds of summerpornathon though I forget which one, now. Consent is intended to be unspoken but given in this fic, but because that's a kind of nebulous thing to communicate I recommend treading carefully if consent issues concern you. 
> 
> Merlin and Arthur have sex both before and after Arthur acquires female genitalia through non-specific magical means. 
> 
> Title comes from John Keats. 
> 
> Apologies to anyone subscribed to me - I'm basically digging up a bunch of old stuff and posting it.

There are many things about Merlin that annoy Arthur. His mouth, to start with, is an example with multiple subcategories: Merlin’s mouth when he talks back, Merlin’s mouth when he makes smacking noises in his sleep, Merlin’s mouth hanging open stupidly when Arthur gives him perfectly clear orders. 

Merlin’s habits of impudence, bloody-mindedness and downright suicidal idiocy deserve mention as well.

But the thing about Merlin he finds most annoying, with an intensity that surpasses all other contenders, is the blithe and self-indulgent way he has with his hands. 

Merlin is handsy. Grabby. Touchy. One would think he saw with his fingertips instead of his eyes, judging by his behaviour. 

And Arthur…well. It bothers him. 

+

He first notices it with the dressing. It’s hard to miss, that first time, what with Merlin being so god-awful at it. But even when Merlin becomes more efficient, his hands get no less thorough. 

Arthur has to compel himself not to twitch every time Merlin’s fingers fuss with a buckle, adjust the sit of mail beneath his arms, smooth his cowl and cape — until he’s forced to jerk away with a growled “Enough,” leaving Merlin looking confused, his hands suspended pale and interrupted between them. 

+

It only gets worse when they fall into bed together. 

After all, the only thing that could mar the perfection of Merlin swallowing, swallowing, _swallowing_ around his cock (and his mouth is almost redeemable like this, stretched in a beautiful, obscene ring) are Merlin’s _hands_ , slipping behind his knees, up his thighs, into the crease behind his balls.

Arthur ties him down when they fuck. Merlin fights the bindings — of course he does — but that’s part of the fun.

+

And then Arthur gets turned into a woman. It’s an ugly first few days of turmoil for a number of reasons that begin with Morgana and end with his father. 

Merlin, though he’s empathetic and gleeful at turns in a way that is strangely comforting, nevertheless _is not helping_ when he assumes that nothing between them has changed with Arthur’s sudden transformation.

+

His new wardrobe is on loan from a resident pageboy. Uther doesn’t want to acknowledge the magic working on his son while Gaius seeks feverishly for a cure, and pretending this nightmare isn’t happening is possibly the only thing upon which he and Arthur are agreed. 

But the masculine clothing must lead Merlin to believe undressing him is still a part of his duties, and Arthur doesn’t know how to communicate just how much he doesn’t want Merlin touching him like this until long fingered hands are unclasping the cape from his neck and it’s all he can do not to choke himself trying to get away. 

Merlin stares at him, nonplussed, cape abandoned on the floor between them. Arthur realises he’s clutching the open collar of his shirt like a terrified virgin and drops his hands into fists. He wants nothing more in that moment than for Merlin to get _out_ without having to be told, so of course Merlin fixes him with a long, considering look before saying, “Okay.”

+

He’s back an hour later with a familiar pair of sturdy cotton scarves, moving quick and implacable when he wrestles Arthur onto his own bed. 

“Tell me to stop,” he says into the bared valley between Arthur’s breasts.

“ _Get off me_ ,” Arthur snarls, thrashing against Merlin’s hold. Something positively _revolves_ in his stomach when he realises Merlin’s always been the taller between the two of them, but this is the first time he’s ever been stronger. 

“Tell me to _stop_ ,” Merlin demands, finally catching Arthur’s gaze and keeping it, holding it the way he holds Arthur’s arms, until he sees something that blows his pupils wide and dark.

He ties both of Arthur’s wrists to the bed, sliding down Arthur’s body and helping himself to every inch of flesh he can put his mouth to. He buries his face between Arthur’s thighs, licking and nuzzling the foreign pink architecture of his cunt while he holds his legs wide with two greedy, bruising hands. 

Arthur fights his bindings — of course he does — gasping and cursing when Merlin licks the salt from his eyes and pulls his calves tight around his waist. 

+

Merlin rides him slow and deliberate, fingers dancing gentle over Arthur’s parted lips, and Arthur — Arthur doesn’t look away.


End file.
